Guardian Review
"A gripping modern translation by Tim Parks", no less, it says confidently on the cover. "Gripping" is not as silly an adjective to use as you might have thought. It is true that we are reading a 16th-century political treatise by a retired diplomat, and not a Robert Ludlum, but translations can let things slip through their fingers, fail to grasp the subtleties or nuances of a text. "Gripping" is a word used by Parks in his long and very worthwhile introduction to this work, describing its genesis: "In short, Machiavelli's attention has shifted from methodical analysis of different political systems to a gripping and personally engaged account of the psychology of the leader who has placed himself beyond the constrictions of Christian ethics and lives in a delirium of pure power." Parks is not only a very good novelist indeed, but he has been translating works from Italian for 20-odd years now, so no one is going to doubt his competence as either an Italianist or writer of stylish English ("a delirium of pure power" is a phrase of which to be proud). Hitherto he has concentrated on writers such as Moravia, Calasso, Calvino - the reasonably modern. But it makes great sense for him to translate Machiavelli: both are contrarians, interested in portraying the world as it is, not as others would like it to be. And if this is at the expense of the patrimony or easy goodwill of others, then so be it. As Parks notes, The Prince is actually an egalitarian book masquerading as an elitist one. We do not, after all, pick it up because it might come in handy when we seize power or attempt to do so; we pick it up and read it because it gives us a clear insight into the minds of our own rulers, and also warns them that a badly governed state will eventually collapse on top of them. This is why it has survived so long, although, ironically, it lay in an oubliette of relative obscurity until denounced by a Huguenot exile, who claimed that it was Catherine de' Medici's favourite book and a work that encouraged bloodthirsty, cynical statecraft. Well, it does and it doesn't. As I read it, I couldn't help wondering which of our own leaders have read it and which have not. The first part of the book tells us about different kinds of state, how to deal with trouble in them and how to conquer them successfully. When you read that trouble in a state is like tuberculosis ("in its early stages it's easy to cure and hard to diagnose, but if you don't spot it and treat it, as time goes by it gets easy to diagnose and hard to cure"), you think of the financial crisis and say: "Ah, Gordon Brown obviously didn't read that bit." When you read that on conquering a republic "your only options are to reduce the place to rubble or go and live there yourself," you might think of any number of contemporary resonances. But everyone's favourites are the parts where Machiavelli tells us what a ruler should be like, how elastic his honesty or ethics should be. "It's seeming to be virtuous that helps; as, for example, seeming to be compassionate, loyal, humane, honest and religious." Or, as Tony Blair put it a few hundred years later, "a pretty straight guy"; and another trick is to get someone beneath you to do the unpopular stuff, and then get rid of that person publicly and ostentatiously. So this is actually a gripping work, and a gripping translation. Parks allows certain modern linguistic resonances: I am not sure how closely that "reduce the place to rubble" above reflects the Italian original, but it has the whiff of the air raid, of shock and awe, to it; and when Machiavelli talks about Pope Alexander VI, we are almost in the world of Arthur Daley, writ large: "Pope Alexander VI never did anything but con people. That was all he ever thought about. And he always found people he could con." Remember this, even if you don't get the book: "A leader doesn't have to possess all the virtuous qualities I've mentioned, but it's absolutely imperative that he seem to possess them." Class dismissed. Caption: article-Lezard27.1 "A gripping modern translation by Tim Parks", no less, it says confidently on the cover. "Gripping" is not as silly an adjective to use as you might have thought. It is true that we are reading a 16th-century political treatise by a retired diplomat, and not a Robert Ludlum, but translations can let things slip through their fingers, fail to grasp the subtleties or nuances of a text. "Gripping" is a word used by Parks in his long and very worthwhile introduction to this work, describing its genesis: "In short, Machiavelli's attention has shifted from methodical analysis of different political systems to a gripping and personally engaged account of the psychology of the leader who has placed himself beyond the constrictions of Christian ethics and lives in a delirium of pure power." - NICHOLAS LEZARD.